


The One With All The Hitchcock References

by PumpkinDoodles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Clint Barton & Darcy Lewis Friendship, Clint is totally Jimmy Stewart, Darcy is also Jimmy Stewart, Darcy/Brock if you squint, F/M, Inspired by Hitchcock, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-07 17:24:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17964854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Clint and Darcy start to wonder if something has gone very, very wrong in the apartment across the courtyard....





	1. The Super Bowl Party

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing!

Darcy had just walked in the door at Jane and Thor’s combined Super Bowl party with Captain America when she was spotted by Sharon Carter and corned by the door. “Darcy, it’s _so great_ to see you getting out and about!” Sharon trilled. Behind her, Jane—clearly  hiding in the kitchen—made an _ugh_ face.

“Um, well, yeah, you know I love football,” Darcy said jokingly. Sharon just nodded, smiling. “I think Jane probably needs my help though!” Darcy added. Jane did double thumbs up behind Sharon.

“Of course,” Sharon said.

“Sorry,” Jane mouthed when she'd made it to the kitchen, so Steve wouldn’t hear. Darcy nodded and rolled her eyes in acknowledgment. Sharon _meant_ well, she was just one of those people who rubbed you the wrong way sometimes. She was brusquely efficient or whatever. It probably came from Peggy, since Peggy’d apparently asked Steve about his love life after knowing him half a minute. In a cab, no less! Darcy and Jane had started calling it being Drive By Carter’d. She seemed to always say things to Darcy about dating or getting out more since they’d moved to DC, which was particularly irritating when she’d snagged Captain America by semi-officially stalking him for Fury. Darcy felt like her split from Ian was still recent. Also, she _liked_ being single and a homebody. It was really pleasant to go home and not find Ian’s dirty hiking boots by the door and him watching _Dr. Who_ at full volume, she didn’t care if it had been six months—they felt like heaven. However, Darcy was secretly afraid Jane would have too many beers and yell at Sharon about it one day, so she tried to keep her irritation on mute.

She followed Jane into the living room with a drink. Steve, Sam, that STRIKE guy Rumlow, and Thor were all debating who was the longest-suffering sports fan. “Gotta be me,” Sam insisted.

“The Dodgers _left_ Brooklyn!” Steve said. “They just left!”

“Try being a Knicks fan, Cap,” Rumlow said. “That’s suffering.”

“My team has not won a bout in two-hundred years! Though there have been many on-field brawls,” Thor said.

“Your team of what?” Rumlow said.

“Kerrigslagtok,” Thor said.

“Uh-huh,” Sam said.

“It’s a little like Australian rules football,” Darcy supplied. “But bigger and bloodier.”

“Yes, my friend Darryl showed me the rules football of Australia,” Thor said.

“It was memorable,” Jane told them. She meant that Thor had started a brawl then, too.

“How is Darryl?” Darcy asked.

“Very well! He has a new roommate,” Thor said, beaming.

“Jack’s staying with him now that we got the Pierce situation under control,” Rumlow said. Darcy nodded politely. She had no idea who Jack was, but assumed it had something to do with a recently-defeated HYDRA infiltration of SHIELD, led by Alexander Pierce. The men went back to debating or yelling at the game and she tried not to let her boredom and social awkwardness show.

 

She eventually returned to the kitchen with Jane and finally snuck off, walking back to her apartment. They were in separate buildings of an old SHIELD-owned complex. Darcy was on the third floor of an older single and two-bedroom unit building. It was one of those weird examples of ugly concrete-block construction. The wing she was in was u-shaped with an extremely narrow courtyard of less than fifteen feet between the two sides, which meant her view was--weirdly--of her neighbors’ windows.

 

***

 

It was _fantastic_ to be home, Darcy thought, putting her pajamas on after a long shower. Ian had always groused about her hot water usage. Her plan was to make herself a coffee and Pop Tarts, do laundry, and watch makeup tutorials on YouTube. She would see if there was a _Dateline_ she could put on in the background. She liked trying to guess whodunnit before the end reveal when she’d only be half paying attention. It was exactly the kind of evening that other people got judgey about, but she loved it. She was happily chewing on her Pop Tart when there was a _thump thump_ on her door. “Come in!” she said teasingly, knowing who it was.

“Itty Bitty, the door’s locked,” Clint said dryly from outside. Darcy popped up and unlocked her door, swinging it in. A tired-looking Clint Barton gazed up at her from his wheelchair.

“How’s the ankle?” Darcy said. He’d fractured it on his last mission and was now undergoing physical therapy and stuck in DC until Helen Cho arrived to patch him up. Darcy knew he was missing Laura and the kids. She opened the door wide enough for him to wheel himself in. He’d been knocking at her door with one of the crutches draped across his lap. She took them from him.

“It hurts and I burnt my damn Tater Tots. I hate the Super Bowl,” Clint said.

“Who is losing?” Darcy asked.

“Me,” he complained. “I know Helen Cho’s just dragging her feet to punish me.”

“Could that be because you have the highest number of injuries per mission?” Darcy suggested, leaning his crutches where he could reach them if needed. “Why didn’t you go to Jane and Thor’s?”

“Wasn’t invited. Everybody forgets me,” Clint said sulkily.

“That’s not true. You were in the room when Thor gave out a general invitation. What did Laura tell you to do again?”

“Laura had told me to stay put, behave, and take my vitamins,” Clint groused.

“And?” Darcy said.

“Keep a positive attitude,” he said forlornly. “I hate people with positive attitudes. You got food?”

“I got Pop Tarts and Chex snack mix,” she said.

“I’ll take it,” he said.

“Blueberry frosted or cherry with unicorn?” she offered.

“Both,” he said. “I wanna eat my feelings. I’m sad. I got the sads.”

 

She and Clint ended up watching a bunch of old suspense films in TCM and eating all the ice cream and healthy number of Pop Tarts. Eventually, fell asleep on her couch and Darcy dozed in the big chair, her feet propped on the ottoman. When she woke up it was dark and she’d left her blinds open. She would shut them so nothing would wake Clint and go to bed, she thought. When she went to the window, she stopped. It looked like the couple across the way--she was in R&D and he was a field agent--were having a really nasty argument. Darcy could see the blonde’s pissed off expression as she yelled at the grey-haired man. Darcy watched as she stormed through their apartment and slammed the bedroom door. Unfortunately, the blinds in the bedroom were shut. The man followed her. “Well, damn,” Darcy said. “I can’t see the dramas.” She left the window, then picked up Clint’s dirty dishes and took them to her sink. She’d rinsed the dishes, put them in the dishwasher, puttered around the kitchen, and returned to cover Clint with a blanket when she heard a door slam. Peering out her window, she realized the male half of the couple was leaving their apartment, coat on. “Welp,” Darcy said to a snoring Clint, “somebody’s not happy.”

 


	2. Yup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawkeye gets a hobby:  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

Darcy woke up to the agonizing screech of her alarm clock across the room and the sound of Clint yelling. “Can somebody turn that off?” he shouted. Darcy crawled out of bed, half stumbling over her slippers, and catching herself on the dresser. She whacked the alarm. That was the best part of her morning--always. She slept so heavily in the mornings that she had to put the alarm across the room, or she’d just hit the snooze for two hours. 

“Got it!” she yelled to Clint.

“Yeah, but you woke people in Maryland,” she heard him grumble.

“Bite me, Hawkeye!”

 

“Why’s your alarm so damn loud?” Clint asked, when she shuffled out, ready for work. He was still on the couch, hair rumpled, eyes puffy.

“So, I won’t oversleep, duh,” Darcy said. 

“How do you sleep through that?” Clint said.

“It’s my super power, 'cause I stay up so late. Oh, I forgot to tell you. You slept through the couple across the way having a huge fight last night,” Darcy said.

“Huh,” he said.

“She slammed the bedroom door, he went in, then fled the apartment,” Darcy supplied. Clint looked curious.  “I saw the whole thing,” Darcy said.

“You can see all kinds of stuff in this wing, can’t you?” He was looking out the window. His temporary apartment was in another part of the building complex.

“Yup,” Darcy said.

“Can I hang out here?”

“Yup.”

“Can you say anything other than yup?” Clint asked.

“Yup.”

 

***

 

They had a fairly quiet lab day, until Sharon popped in at noon. “Hey, Darce, you left early last night! I wish you’d stayed, Steve had such a great time with Thor and Jane co-hosting. How do you feel about blind dates?” she asked. Her voice was hurried. She'd clipped it all out.

“What?” Darcy said.

“I need someone to go on a double date with me and Steve and Rumlow,” Sharon said. “This Thursday? I’m kinda desperate?”

“Gee, thanks,” Darcy said.

“No, no, it’s not you, it’s just, he’s got this whole reputation from the undercover HYDRA work and some people are still a little scared of him? It’s either that or the burns,” she said. “But those are gone now--”

“The what?” Jane said, looking over curiously and seeming to notice Sharon’s presence for the first time.

“He was burned during the whole Triskelion thing, but Helen Cho patched him up,” Sharon explained. “The Cradle even fixed his ear. She uses him as her presentation before and after now.”

“Interesting,” Jane said, perking up at a Science! Mention. Darcy knew she’d heard Helen Cho had a bit of a Thor crush, too, so it automatically made Jane take notice.

“Oh, well, okay,” Darcy said, more out of a desire to get Sharon to leave her alone, so she could finish responding to Jane’s emails. “What time Thursday?” she asked.

“Seven. Orzo’s. I’ll send you an email reminder, okay? I really owe you one!” Sharon said brightly. “I didn’t think finding him a date would be this friggin’ difficult. Thanks, Pierce,” she said, laughing, before she departed. _Thanks, Pierce_ was the SHIELD saying du jour. Lost some funding? _Thanks, Pierce._ Miss your coworkers who’d retired or been poached by Langley? People thanked Pierce. It was a whole thing.

“You’ve got a date,” Jane said teasing.

“Shut up, or I’ll get him to give Helen Cho Thor’s email or something,” Darcy grumbled.

“Below the belt, Darce!” Jane said.

“Whatever,” Darcy grumbled. “Don’t test me.”

“You’ve got a date with Rumlow,” Jane said, giggling. “He’s gonna talk your ears off about his exercise routine, I heard him and Sam Wilson talking about carb cycling after you left.” Darcy reached into to her desk, brought out a toy blaster, and blew her Minion fart gun at Jane.

 ***

 

When she got back that evening, Clint had binoculars and was watching the other units. “Are you creeping on the neighbors?” Darcy asked. SHIELD had found putting Clint on light duty so disruptive--he put funny answers on his paperwork and played pranks--that Fury had told him just to stay home.

“It’s espionage,” he said, writing something down. “I’m watching that apartment. The guy has come back a few times, but she must’ve asked him to move out or something. He brought a trunk,” Clint said.

“A trunk?” Darcy said.

“Uh-huh. She hadn’t been back. Weird, right?” Clint said.

“Totally,” Darcy said.

“I’m keeping an eye  on it. Oh, the guy over there has a dog,” Clint said. They discussed the neighbors’ various activities, had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (a mutual fave), and Darcy talked Clint into a face mask.

“It’s great for your pores, you’ll see,” Darcy said.

“Laura’ll think I’m pretty,” he said, smiling. “What movie are we watching tonight?”

“That giant shark one is on Starkflix,” Darcy said. Tony had given her a lifetime subscription to his SI movie streaming service as a birthday present.

“Giant sharks sounds good,” Clint said, nodding.

 

The shark had eaten its second tourist and they were on their first bag of popcorn when Darcy spotted movement across the courtyard. “Clint,” she said. “Neighbor lady is back!”

“You think they made up?” Clint asked. Darcy got up and peered out the window. Clint used one of his crutches to hobble over, too. “Looks like a reconciliation dinner,” he said. Their table was set. The couple appeared to be talking.

“Definitely,” Darcy said. They went back to their movie.

"These townspeople are dumber than rocks for going back in the water,” Clint said.

“Sure, Iowa,” she told him, prying a bit of popcorn out of her bra and eating it.

"You got terrible manners," Clint said.

"Phhft, I'm a lady. I'm going on a double-date with Captain America and Agent Carter 2.0, thank you very much," Darcy said. "I was asked special."

"Yeah?" Clint said. "What terrible guy can Sharon not get a date for? Wilson? I woulda thought--"

"It's that Rumlow dude," Darcy said. "But I'm hoping we'll end up in  _Us Weekly_ or on the blogs--why are you laughing?"

"Are you saying you agreed to a date with somebody to use Cap's fame to get in the tabloids?" Clint said.

"My cousin Jana will be so jelly and she was mean to me at Thanksgiving, you don't understand," Darcy said. She did her Jana impression.  _"Still single Darcy?"_

"What if he likes you?" Clint said.

"He won't. He can't, I eat refined white sugar," Darcy said.

 

Darcy fell asleep somewhere around the third deadly shark movie. She was awoken by a high-pitched noise. Someone was screaming. “Clint, wake up! Clint!” Darcy said. “You hear that?”

“What?” Clint said, blinking slowly. He sat up suddenly when there was another shriek. “Shit,” he said. They both got up and went to the window. The blinds across the way were closed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Fart blaster!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_NsuHnd4X8


	3. Should We, Um, Call Someone?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Has there been a murder?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos! Y'all are great!

“Should we call someone? I feel like we should’ve called someone,” Darcy said the next morning. They’d waited to see if anything else happened, but nothing had. Now she was fretting over her travel mug of coffee. Clint huffed over his cup. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Call who and say what, Itty Bitty?” Clint asked. “We heard somebody yelling and--?”

“I dunno, I’m worried. See something, say something! Isn’t that what all the posters say?” Darcy said. She was going to be late for work, but it was difficult to drag herself from the window. She nibbled her lip and Clint hopped over.

“It’ll be fine, I’m sure it was nothing,” he said.

“You’re sure?” Darcy said.

“Yeah. Also, you got a little popcorn kernel in between your teeth,” he said.

“Shut up,” Darcy said, heading to the bathroom to look in the mirror.

“Hey, you said if I saw something, I should say something!” Clint called, smirking.

“I’m letting you crash at my place for free,” Darcy grumbled, emerging sans popcorn. She went to get her coat and bag.

“You love me, you really, really love me,” Clint singsonged.

“Sure, Sally Field. I’ll see you tonight,” Darcy said. “Oh, shoot! Coffee!” She ran over, snagged her travel mug off the windowsill and hurried off.

“I’ll keep an eye on things!” Clint yelled.

“You better, Hawkguy, I want updates!” Darcy yelled back, shutting the door and locking it.

 

***

 

“Darce, c’mon, you watch too many movies. You can’t believe something happened to your neighbor,” Jane said. They were compiling data and Jane was scribbling on a whiteboard. She had a bit of blue dry erase marker on her nose.

“Jane, you weren’t there. It was a blood-curdling scream, like ‘Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,’ you know? Like that?” Darcy said. “It was freaky.”

“Maybe they were getting freaky?” Jane said, grinning.

“Um, that’s just you and Thor. Or maybe Steve and Sharon. I’ve seen her man, no serum enhancements,” Darcy said dryly.

 

She was still thinking about it when she did the late afternoon snack run. Jane needed cinnamon buns and coffee to live and function on a genius level. Allegedly. Darcy was in the line at the SHIELD café when someone tapped her on the shoulder. It was the Rumlow guy. “Hi,” Darcy said politely.

“Hey,” he began, before someone called his name and he half-turned back to look at them. “Yeah?” Rumlow asked the agent who jogged up to him. That gave Darcy the opportunity to really look at Rumlow. He was attractive, she thought, if you liked that whole dark and brooding vibe. She had always preferred blondes and hadn’t paid too much attention to him when they’d been in the same places before, especially since she’d had a small crush on Steve. Steve’s megawatt glow tended to outshine other men, anyway.

“Forensics is back on the Algiers thing, they thought you’d want them ASAP,” the other agent said. Rumlow was frowning; he ran a hand through his hair and Darcy noticed the cowlick over his left eyebrow for the first time. It made him look like he had a small scar along his hairline. She bet it annoyed him. He seemed like the kind of guy who was conscious of his appearance, if the tattoos and muscles and hairstyle were anything to go by.

“Yeah,” Rumlow said. “I do want those, thanks.” The agent stood there awkwardly. He sighed, sounding aggrieved, and turned back to Darcy. “I’ll see you on Thursday. Looking forward to it, okay?” he said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, returning his serious look with a smile.

“Can I pick you up?” he said.

“No, no, you don’t have to--” Darcy began.

“I’d like to,” he said. “I’m old-fashioned.” He scrunched his nose and she was acutely conscious of people eyeing them curiously in the line and in the coffee shop Over his shoulder, Darcy could see the agent who’d stopped him actually cringing. It was funny and it made her smile widen, but then she realized the agent probably thought he was in deep trouble for interrupting his commander’s date logistics. Rumlow was high up in those STRIKE units, working with Steve, Natasha, and Clint.

“Umm,” Darcy said. Like you do.

“You think that’s weird?” he said, sounding more wry and human. “You do,” he said, looking embarrassed.

“No, no,” Darcy said, biting her lip to hide her smirk a little. “Text me on SHIELDmessage, I’ll send you my address,” she said.

“Okay,” he said, the serious expression turning into a tiny grin. It was so brief, you might’ve missed it.

 

***

“What’s our status?” Darcy asked Clint, when she arrived home that night. Clint was glued to the window with his binoculars.

“Don’t freak out,” he said.

“What?” Darcy said.

“I haven’t seen neighbor lady all day and I just saw him cleaning a knife. I took pictures with my camera,” Clint said, handing her his phone.

“They’re grainy, but that’s a knife,” Darcy said, swallowing. “Clint, do you think he could have, um, hurt her?”

“What, like her body’s in the tub, right now? C’mon, Darce, that only happens in the movies,” Clint said skeptically. But then he frowned.  “You think maybe we should get Tasha to check it out?” Clint asked.

“Duh,” Darcy said. She’d come over to the window and swiped his binoculars. “Her coat is still on the hook by the door. If she left him, she didn’t take her coat!” She pointed. “That’s a clue!”

“It’s been warm, Inspector Clouseau,” Clint said.

“Not that warm,” Darcy told him. “It was fifty degrees yesterday. And she’s skinny. Skinny girls are _always_ cold, okay?” Clint looked at her like she was crazy and then stole back his binoculars to look.

“Laura’s got feet like ice cubes,” he admitted.

 

Natasha arrived that evening, poured herself some of Darcy’s cheap vodka, made a face, then looked at the photos. “Let me see if I understand you correctly. You are creeping on Darcy’s neighbors--”

“Light duty espionage,” Clint corrected.

“For practice,” Darcy said at the same time. Clint nodded. Natasha merely smirked at them.

“All right. You are doing your light duty espionage and you see a couple fighting. Later on, you hear a scream. You do not know the origin of the scream,” Nat said.

“Their blinds were closed,” Darcy said.

“Yes,” Nat said, “the woman seems to have left and you see the man cleaning a knife--this is a knife designed for kitchen prep, by the way--so, you assume he has murdered her? Without signs of blood, any disturbance indicative of moving a body?”

“When you put it like that--” Darcy said doubtfully.

“You make us sound nuts,” Clint grumbled.

“You are perhaps inexperienced,” Nat said.

“Huh,” Darcy said. “What?”

“She means we’ve never moved a body before,” Clint said.

“It is more logistically complicated than most people know. In this situation, I would tell people she moved out, wrap the body, and wheel it out in one of those large garment boxes,” Nat said thoughtfully, looking at Clint’s photos.

“Oh,” Darcy said. She looked at Clint. He shrugged. Nat was still looking at the pictures.

“There is one obvious solution,” Nat said. She looked up at them.

“What?” they said in unison.

“She is your coworker, why not see if she’s been at work?” Nat said mildly.

“Ohhhh,” Darcy said.

“Didn’t think of that,” Clint said.

“She’s in R&D, I think?” Darcy said.

“Good, tomorrow, we will go to R&D and see her and then you can forget this nonsense,” Nat said. “Now tell me about this date that you have?”

“Ughhhhhhh, no, let’s go back to the maybe murderer,” Darcy said. “I hate dating!” Clint laughed.

 

***

 

The next morning, she and Natasha went to R&D to check the status of Darcy’s neighbor. “How will we know who to ask for?” Darcy mused aloud in the elevator.

“Her name is Janet Thornhill, thirty-eight, graduate degree in chemistry from the University of Chicago, not a natural blonde,” Nat said dryly.

“How do you know these things?” Darcy said.

“I ask the right questions, _milaya.”_

 

At R&D, Darcy watched as Natasha beguiled a male scientist. He confirmed that Janet Thornhill had been scheduled to leave town for a conference. “I just got a text from her this morning,” he said to them.

“See?” Nat said. “Nothing to worry about.”

"Okay," Darcy said doubtfully. But couldn't anyone send a text?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cowlick is that piece of hair going it's own way above his left eyebrow, curling forward while the rest of his hair goes back. I love it. It just does what it wants, regardless of whatever the rest of his hair is doing. 
> 
> New fic goal: write scene of Brock Rumlow fighting with his cowlick before a big event and/or complaining that his barber cut it too short and now it's being extra troublesome. https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DxltSikUwAEDwfJ.jpg


	4. The Maginot Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock Rumlow's inner monologue: *be cool, be cool*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

Darcy and Clint were mollified for almost twenty-four hours. But then Clint noticed something funny: Janet Thornhill’s boyfriend moved a trunk out after dark on Wednesday night. “Darce!” he yelled. “We got movement.” Darcy left their midnight mac and cheese on the stove and ran to the window. “He just brought that out of the bedroom,” Clint said. The boyfriend was strapping that trunk to a handcart.

“Holy shit,” she said. “He put her in the trunk, didn’t he? Doesn’t that mean he planned this?”

“That sneaky sonofabitch. What did Tasha say his name was?” Clint asked.

“Charlie Bruno,” Darcy said. “Which I still think is a fake name.” She watched, rapt, as he struggled with the trunk. “Look how he’s struggling, Clint, and he’s a field agent, he’s gotta be strong.”

“Uh-huh,” Clint said. “You know what we need to do?”

“Call Nat?” Darcy said.

“No, she won’t believe us, she’d have to admit she was wrong before. She hates that. We gotta bug that apartment,” Clint said.

“Where do we get a bug?” Darcy said.

“I got one in my apartment,” Clint said. “Can you go get it?”

 

When Darcy returned with the bug and the set of arrows he’d specified, Clint was ready in his chair.  “He’s gone, let’s go,” he told her.

“You’re not going to break into that apartment in your wheelchair, are you?” Darcy said.

“No,” he said, as if she was particularly slow. “I’m going to use the arrows to attach it to the balcony above his unit. My buddy lives there. It’s a powerful bug, it’ll pick up everything anyone says in the nearest places.”

“Cooool,” Darcy said, turning the bug over in her hand. It really was bug-tiny.

“Hurry up, you gotta get me out into the courtyard and back before he notices,” Clint said, making shoo-ing motions are her.   

 

“Ow,” Clint said, as she rolled him hurriedly out into the dark courtyard and bumped over an uneven brick paver. “I think Nat could do this without killing me,” he complained. Two of the lights at their end had burned out, making the apartment windows seem oddly visible in the dark.

“Nat could lift you and bridal carry you across this, cut me a break,” Darcy said. “You’ve seen my disinterest in exercise.” She’d taken him to physical therapy once and made vroom-vroom noises with the equipment until the SHIELD therapist fussed at her.

“Yup,” Clint said cheerfully. He aimed with his bow, then stopped. “Get me ten degrees to the right. Please?”

“What is ten degrees?” Darcy said.

“Oh my God,” Clint said.

“Lab assistant here,” Darcy said.

“I have no idea how you survived those elves,” he said.

“I was too pretty to kill,” Darcy told him. He scoffed audibly and she threatened to tip over his chair. Finally, he was in what he deemed the best shooting position and aimed his bow. It was fun to watch the arrow fly, though. It landed neatly and almost silently on the bottom of the balcony above Janet Thornhill’s unit. Or Janet Thornhill’s old unit, Darcy thought grimly. Then Clint yanked the arrow away and Darcy could just barely see the tiny speck that was their bug. “Yay!” she said, clapping.

“Shut up, somebody’s gonna hear you!” Clint scolded.

“Shoot some more,” she said. He obliged by sticking the arrow to the side of the building a few times before they went back in.

 

***

 

They were on the elevator when Charlie Bruno appeared. He looked dirty, Darcy saw, shrinking back. “Hello,” he said politely. It was totally creepy.

“Hi,” Clint said, giving him a cold death glare. The rode in awkward silence until he got off and they looked at each other.

“Oh my God, we were almost dead,” Darcy said. The next person on the elevator greeted Clint.

“Hi, Barton! How’s the leg?”

“Miserable, but I’m alive for now,” Clint joked. “Darce, this is my buddy, Bob.” He and Darcy looked at one another and started to laugh nervously.

“Hi, Bob!” Darcy said, between giggles.

“What is it?” Bob said. “What am I missing?”

“We’re doing some light espionage in the building,” Clint explained. “Trying to figure out how your downstairs neighbor offed his girlfriend.”

“I thought Janet was at a conference in Buffalo?” he said, looking baffled.

“We’re gonna find out, we bugged his place,” Clint said, tapping the side of his nose.

 

That night, they listened to the bug. Charlie Bruno ran the microwave and watched ESPN. “That is a single man,” Clint said, looking up at Darcy from where he was stationed at the window. “He’s eating microwave food and drinking scotch.”

“Gross,” Darcy said.

 

***

 

“You can’t wear that,” Clint told her, when she emerged in leggings and a sweater late Thursday afternoon.

“You’re supposed to be watching the window!” Darcy said. They were watching Charlie Bruno for signs of guilt, like an increase in his scotch consumption or sad calls to his mother. “And these is a nice sweater. See? Minimal pilling and wear.” Darcy gestured to her sweater front.

“I’m picking out your outfit,” Clint said, reaching for his crutches.

“Since when do you care about clothes? Did Natasha stab you with a special Widow’s Bite or something?” Darcy asked.

“No.” He smirked. “She promised me Russian food if I made sure you looked nice tonight. I think the hair and makeup are okay, though. Wear that red lipstick you wore to Tony’s thing,” Clint said.

“That was a Halloween party, I was Betty Boop, you traitor!” Darcy said. Clint rolled his eyes.

“Treat this like a real date. Then I’ll go back to the window,” he bargained.

“Fine,” Darcy said, following him as he hobbled into her bedroom. He thumbed through some of her clothes, then picked out a dress, throwing it at her and then heading back to the living room to forgo debate.

“Of course you want me to wear my trashy clothes,” Darcy joked. “I don’t even think I’ve ever worn this,” she said, waving the skimpy dress on the hanger. It was leopard-print, cut low in the front and probably too small to be comfortable.

“No time like the present,” Clint said, groaning as he got back to his chair by the window.

“No,” she insisted. “I think this was a Halloween costume, too.”

“This is why you’re single,” Clint teased.

“Do you think Nat will be watching us?” Darcy asked, suddenly realizing Nat had to be watching for the bet with Clint to work.

“Does a tsar hang out with Rasputin?” Clint asked.

“Oh, man!” Darcy said. “She’s totally going to follow us, isn’t she?” Clint nodded and Darcy sighed. “You know what? Fine. I’ll show her. She thinks I can’t make a good impression? I can, I just don’t want to!” Darcy insisted. When she came back in a different dress-- a red one with shoulder bows and a deep v--Clint sat up a fraction and whistled.

“I’m getting some blinis!” he said.

“Phfffft,” Darcy said, rolling her eyes.  Her doorbell rang.

“He’s heeeeeeeere,” Clint said teasingly.

“Shut up,” Darcy said. She checked the peephole just to be safe and saw a distorted Rumlow blinking back at her. He’d brought flowers. Roses. She opened the door. “Hi,” she said. He was wearing a blazer and a dress shirt. He’d actually dressed up for this? She’d expected a t-shirt and jeans before she’d changed into the Natasha Made Me Do It dress. Of course, Sharon and Steve usually went to nice places, so….

“Hi,” he said, staring for a long moment. “You--you look great.” His eyes drifted down to her boobs, widened, and then he dragged them back up to her face slowly. Behind her, Darcy heard Clint giggle.

“Cut it out,” she sassed him, turning around and sticking out her tongue.

“Barton?” Rumlow said, looking confused.

“I’m just hanging out here while I’m stuck in DC,” Clint said to him. “She’s totally single. Very single. She’s several cats from being the total stereotype. Five minutes ago she had fuzzy slippers and a grandma bathrobe on.”

“Clint!” Darcy said.

“Don’t you live in DC?” Rumlow asked. Darcy realized he must not know about Laura and tried to cover for him.

“He means he can’t go on missions and he drives Fury crazy on light duty, so he’s basically been grounded by dad. Let me grab a scarf and jacket, okay?” Darcy said. “We’re doing some light espionage, too. Clint tell him.”

“Espionage?” Rumlow said, eyebrows high.

 

When Darcy came out, Rumlow was standing at the window, next to Clint, binoculars in one hand and his bouquet of flowers in the other. “Oh, gosh, I forgot the flowers!” Darcy said. “I’ll get a vase.”

“You can tell she dates a lot, right?” Clint joked, as she hurried into the kitchen.

“Don’t make me hit you with a crutch!” Darcy told him, struggling to reach the barely-used vase on the top shelf of her kitchen cabinet. Rumlow came over to help her.

“Here,” he said, standing so close that she could feel his breath against her neck.

“These are pretty,” Darcy said, feeling herself blush a little, as she arranged those roses in the vase in her sink. He smelled nice. Really nice.  “They, uh, match my dress,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him.

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing. Darcy missed Clint’s eyeroll.

 

***

 **Iowa Farm Boy:** Weird things happening now

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** What?

 **Iowa Farm Boy:** Bruno is out in the courtyard, burying something? [photo]

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** A body?!

 **Iowa Farm Boy:** No, goober, this is the little flower bed. Not big enough for a body...it could be parts though?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** HOLY SHIT.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I’ll come back

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Shit. Rumlow drove. Dammit, why did I let him drive? I’ll try to wrap this up quick…

 **Iowa Farm Boy:** Is Rumlow that bad a date?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** He’s all right, Sharon’s just telling some boring story about a paperwork mix up and Chitauri guns. Double dates are weird.

 **Iowa Farm Boy:** You can’t talk to him without feeling like they’re watching you, right?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Uh-huh

 **Iowa Farm Boy:** And you know Cap hears _everything,_ including Rumlow staring at your boobs.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Ugh, don’t remind me. Double dates are weird. Also, boob stares are not audible.

 **Iowa Farm Boy:** You can’t lie to me. I saw his face when he saw your dress. Also, my blinis arrived ten minutes ago, you can bail [photo]

 

***

 

The date was going badly, Brock thought, as Sharon told some story and he laughed politely. Darcy must’ve caught him staring at the apartment, because she seemed distant. But she looked incredible. Even Cap had looked momentarily thrown when she took her coat off. That dress was practically sexual gift wrap. Jesus. He was wrecked. He couldn’t stop looking at her. But she seemed...bored? He didn’t want her to be bored. “So, um, Darcy?” he said--not feeling familiar enough for Cap and Sharon’s casual ‘Darce’--and grabbed for the first conversation starter he could think of.

“Yeah?” she said, looking up from her phone.

“Do they know about you and Barton’s light espionage?” he asked. That turned out to be exactly the wrong thing to say: when she explained, Cap got all worried she was in danger, and fussed at her about getting herself into dangerous situations and or committing violations of privacy.

“Steve!” Sharon chided. “I’m sorry, he’s not usually so retrograde.”

“I’m not being retrograde,” Steve grumbled. “Clint’s injured and she refuses to carry anything tougher than a taser. Somebody who’ll kill their wife isn’t going to hesitate to hurt you or him, Darce. If this is real, I just want you to take precautions. Sensible ones.”

“I don’t see where planting an outdoor bug is any different from her or Clint sitting out in the courtyard, though?” Brock said, trying to sound mild and on her side. Darcy smiled at him. Success, he thought, smiling at her.  “If he was out and the neighbors saw him plant it, they’ll just assume Barton’s goofing around and bored, right? No harm there.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said. “At least someone thinks Clint and I might be onto something interesting.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve said sardonically, giving Rumlow a look that suggested _I can literally hear all the blood flowing away from your brain, Rumlow._ Unless Brock was just feeling self-conscious.

“What if I took you by the range sometime?” Brock said, grinning slowly as the idea occurred to him.

“The gun range?” Darcy said. “Like pew pew pew?” She mimed firing. He laughed.

“Sure,” he said. “Sensible precaution, learning how to shoot. Wasn’t Peggy a great shot, Cap?”

“She shot him once!” Sharon said, laughing.

“She shot at my shield, to see if it worked,” Cap said, sounding defensive.

“She’d just caught him kissing another woman,” Sharon said. At Steve's look, she grinned. "What? Peggy used to tell that story to everyone at Christmas!"

“What?” Darcy said.

“That private kissed me, I didn’t kiss her,” Cap said. “She sorta snuck up on me.”

“Uh-huh,” Brock said. “Face first, huh? Must’ve been some sneak attack.”

“Sounds like she ran over you like you were the Maginot Line, Steverini,” Darcy said. Underneath the table, her knee brushed Brock’s leg slightly and he had to keep himself from reaching over to touch her.

“It was sorta like that, uh, I didn’t know it was happening until the fighting had started,” Steve said sheepishly.

“Yeah,” Brock said, nodding in recognition. He cut his eyes at Darcy. She had a beauty mark above her lip, he realized. A damn Marilyn Monroe beauty mark.  

“What?” she said, noticing his glance. “Do I have something on my face?” She touched her face self-consciously.

“Only the world’s cutest mole,” he said, grinning at her.

“Ugh, I hate it! When I was little, someone called me Mole Face once,” she said.

“Clearly, that person was jealous,” he said, before he realized Sharon was staring at them, looking coy. “What? Look at this face,” he said, cupping her chin. He was experiencing either temporary insanity or giddy enthusiasm. “This is a perfect face,” he declared. "Tell me it isn't?" Sharon laughed at both of them.

“Oh my God, shut up,” Darcy said, blushing furiously.

 

***

“So?” Sharon said to Darcy in the ladies’ room. “What do you think? Clearly, he’s into you.”

“Um,” Darcy said, distracted by her text messages from Clint, “I think I really need to get home before Clint decides to dig up a flower bed alone.”

“Not the best date then?” Sharon said, pulling an _oh no_ face.

“Actually, he seems nice, very attentive,” Darcy admitted. "I wouldn't mind a second date," she said, but her mind was on darkened courtyards, mysterious trunks, and Janet Thornhill.

  
***

 

He must’ve embarrassed her, Brock thought, because she got up to go to the bathroom and then came back looking funny. “Something wrong?” he asked, internally cursing his inability to behave normally around her. He was out of practice with date conversation, obviously. Also, she was too good-looking. Yeah, that was the problem. She was too pretty.

“I’m getting all these weird texts from Clint, I sorta feel like I should check on things?” Darcy said.

“We’ll go,” he said. “Can we get some boxes?” he asked a passing waiter, then turned to Darcy. “Unless you really think we need to hurry?” he asked her. It was hard to eat around her anyway. He kept catching himself grinning like a total idiot.

“Clint says he’s fine, but he’s seeing strange activity,” she explained.

“I’ll take care of the bill,” he said.

“You don’t have to,” she began.

“No, I’ve got cash,” he said. He’d made sure to have cash, so he could pay with minimum fuss.  
  
A few minutes later, they’d left Steve and Sharon behind and he stopped her on the sidewalk to fix the edges of her scarf. “It’s chilly out,” he said.

“Thanks,” she said.

“No problem,” he said, cupping her elbow to lead her to the car. “Let’s go find out what Barton’s up to, okay?”

“You’re really interested in this stuff?” she said, sounding surprised.

“Yeah,” he said. “I am.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dress is a killer dress. It should come with a 'may cause cardiac events' warning probably: https://www.stopstaringclothing.com/valentina-red-fitted-dress-1015.html


	5. Peppermint Schnapps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawkeye's sad face makes Darcy sad, too:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

The two of them met Clint’s buddy, Bob, walking into the building. “Hi, Bob!” Darcy said. “We’re still on the case,” she told him quietly. Bob raised his eyebrows.

“That right?” he said. “Commander Rumlow?”

“She brought in reinforcements,” Rumlow said dryly, his arm hovering around Darcy’s waist. Bob looked even more surprised. Rumlow heard Bob repeating them quietly as he left and headed out into the dark.

“Brought in reinforcements,” he was muttering.

“I don’t think Bob believes us,” Darcy said. “I sense skepticism. Do you sense skepticism?”

“Possibly. But who pays any attention to Bob?” he said in a low voice, smiling at her.

 

***

 

When they got back to her apartment, Clint was watching out the window. “Hey,” Darcy said, opening the door, “anything else happen?”

“No, but I’m gonna go down there,” Clint said, not realizing Rumlow was with her.

“No way,” Darcy said. Clint looked back at her, frowning.

“Oh, hey,” Clint said, nodding at the other man.

“We need to have a plan,” Darcy said, trying to sound level-headed. Be responsible, Jane would say. Of course, Jane always portaled the thing anyway, so it was mostly semi-responsible behavior.

“Just what are we doing?” Rumlow asked. They’d spent the ride back talking about travel and favorite bands, not their mystery. Darcy found him easier to talk to without an audience. Which was a relief, honestly. She’d been dreading awkward car talk.

“Digging up whatever Bruno buried in the courtyard tonight,” Clint said grimly. Darcy came and looked out the window, Rumlow trailing behind her. She took Clint’s binoculars and peered down.

“I see it! I see fresh dirt!” she said, bouncing up and down a little.

“What, you think I would lie?” Clint said, sounding offended. “Are you hearing this?” he asked Rumlow. Darcy looked over when he didn’t reply and realized he was staring at her with his mouth slightly open. Whoops. She’d hopped up and down in the halter dress.

“Distracted by this caper?” she asked, laughing, "or is it something else?" She was used to guys freaking out over her boobs. He seemed to recollect himself.

“Huh?” he said. “What was the question?”

“I’m digging that up,” Clint said firmly, reaching for his other crutch.

“Clint, no!” Darcy said. “Not with your ankle. Grab him!” she told Rumlow, who immediately put a hand on Clint’s arm.

“Oh, you’ll listen to her. I see how it is,” Clint grumbled, frowning.

“You can’t go down there, I’ve gotta do it,” Darcy said. “You hold him down, I’m sure I’ve got a plastic shovel around here somewhere,Thor likes to build sandcastles,” she muttered, looking in the hall closet. Out came an oversized canvas bag of toys--Darcy took them to Jane’s conferences so she and Thor could pass the time between panels--and she leaned over, digging through the bag. “Ah ha!” she said, finding it in the bottom. “Here it is!” It was blue. “Now I just gotta find my flashlight. My mom got me one of those big metal ones that make you look like a cop. She said I could hit somebody with it, it’s heavy enough…..”

“You’re going to go dig a hole with a kid’s shovel in a dress?” Clint said. Rumlow was frowning, his head tilted to one side, looking thoughtful. He was still hovering next to Clint like he was a flight risk, Darcy noticed.

“I’ll go,” Rumlow said suddenly.

“In your nice suit? You can’t dig in that!” Darcy said.

“It’s not that nice,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Darcy said. Rumlow nodded and she turned back to the closet. “I might have something else---” Darcy said, more to herself than to them.

“Blatant lie, I know you only wear fancyman suits,” Clint muttered and Rumlow elbowed him. “Ow,” Clint complained.

“Shut up, or I’ll break your other ankle,” Rumlow whispered.

“Well, you just took the conversation to another level that feels a little inappropriate and mean, man,” Clint whispered. “Who peed in your Cornflakes?”

“I just got out of the awkward double date with Farrah Fawcett and the Million Dollar Man, I’m a little grumpy,” Rumlow said. “I’m not letting my date go dig a hole, whatever is happening.”

“You like her!” Clint said, whisper-laughing. He put a hand over his mouth so Darcy wouldn’t hear. She was still digging through her closet.

“Shut up,” Rumlow stage-whispered.

“Here it is! Yay! I knew I had a second shovel! At least leave your nice jacket--you can wear my black raincoat instead,” Darcy said, brandishing the oversize coat she’d bought in London and another plastic shovel.

“Will it be big enough, Darce?” Clint teased. “That ladies’ raincoat?”

“Oh, yeah, I used to wear backpacks underneath, so Jane’s research would stay dry, I looked like a tiny hunchback,” Darcy said. “You want to take off your coat?” she asked Rumlow.

“Sure,” he said, finally stepping away from Clint. “My masculinity’s not challenged by a raincoat, Barton.” He gave Clint a look.

“Okay, wait, I gotta change, too,” Darcy said. “Watch the window, I’ll be back.” She scurried into her bedroom.

“Why are you changing?” Clint said.

“He needs a lookout on the ground!” Darcy called from in the bedroom.

  
***

 

“I am so sorry, I didn’t realize these sneakers were reflective at night. I’ve never worn them anywhere but Target or Panera Bread, I don’t run,” Darcy whispered to Rumlow as he dug. She had changed into yoga pants, a dark sweatshirt, and her one pair of purple sneakers. Which had little glow thingies on them.

“It’s okay,” Rumlow said, scooping up dirt with a tiny shovel. “I don’t think anyone will notice,” he said. He grinned down at the dirt, then looked up at her slyly. “No one’s spotted us yet.”

 

It was very dark and very quiet. Darcy felt creeped out, but Rumlow had said he was fine digging in the dirt without a flashlight. She guessed he was experienced? He wielded the tiny shovel pretty expertly. _Clunk-clunk-clunk_ went each scoopful of dirt as it landed in a neat pile next to him.

She held the unlit flashlight--poised to hit an assailant, any assailant--while she kept a lookout. Clint was watching from the window. “You really can’t see Clint from down here at all,” she said. “Huh.”

“Wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing,” Rumlow said. All of a sudden, she heard his shovel hit something with a clang.

“You found it,” Darcy whispered, momentarily forgetting to be the lookout to peer into the dirt hole. “Is it heavy?” she asked.

“Nope,” he said. “Metal box.” He lifted it out carefully. It was the size of a shoe box. “Step back, baby,” he said. “Give me about twenty feet, okay?” She nodded and move backwards. “Little more,” he called, and she scooted further away. She couldn’t see quite what he was doing, but it looked like he was running a smartphone over the top and sides of the box.

“What are you doing?” she whispered. He gestured for her to come back.

“Didn’t want any nasty surprises. Hang onto that,” he said, handing it to her. She turned it over in her hands.

“What kind of nasty surprises?” Darcy asked. He shrugged.

“You never know,” he said, putting the dirt back in the hole.

“Are you messing with me? I know Clint says I’m gullible, but that’s just because he told me he carved his own butter cows one time and I really thought that was an Iowan thing--” she began before someone came walking out into the courtyard. Darcy stuffed the box under her shirt. Whatever was inside clinked loudly.

“Hello,” her neighbor said, looking puzzled.

“I lost an earring! You didn’t see a pair of pink rhinestone ones, did you?” she said.

“No, sorry,” she said. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Thank you! They’re my favorites,” Darcy lied, as she walked away. “Betsey Johnson.” 

 

“That was clever,” Rumlow said, still on the ground. He’d pretended to be looking while she spoke.

“Not really. I lose earrings all the time. Jane portaled one-half of my favorite pair somewhere and we’ve never been able to bring them back. Also, Betsey Johnson’s my favorite,” she said. He laughed.

“Let’s get that upstairs,” he said.

 

***

They opened the box with some trepidation. Inside were several empty liquor bottles. “Shit,” Clint said.

“Why did he bury those?” Darcy said, baffled.

“Either he’s saving his recycling for a special occasion or drunk people do strange things?” Rumlow suggested.

“Shit,” Clint repeated.

“But what does it _mean?”_ Darcy said.

“It means there’s no mystery. She’s probably just in Buffalo,” Clint said, dejected.

“Oh, c’mon, maybe this is a test burial, don’t give up,” Darcy said to Clint. He looked so disappointed. “Should we put it back?” she asked Rumlow.

“I’ll put it back, you stay here,” he said, tucking the box under his arm.

“Be careful,” Darcy said.

“I don’t think these liquor bottles are gonna get me, but you watch out that window, sweetheart,” he said, exiting the apartment.

 

“Why do you think he buried those?” Darcy asked Clint, as they watched Rumlow re-bury the box.

“Only one reason, really,” Clint said.

“What?” Darcy said.

“She’s alive and he’s trying to hide his booze consumption while she’s gone,” Clint said.

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Well, that’s not exciting or mysterious.” She peered down into the courtyard. “He’s really good at this whole stealth thing,” she said.

“You gonna let him sneak around in the dark with your box, too?” Clint asked.

“Shut up, I am not. He probably thinks I’m weird at this point, in any case,” Darcy said.

“Some people like weird,” Clint said, shrugging. He sighed and frowned.

“Don’t be all sad, it gives me the sads. I’ll make you hot cocoa, okay?” Darcy bargained.

“Can I have peppermint schnapps in it?” Clint wheedled.

“What do your meds say?” Darcy said.

“Alcohol may intensify the effects, which sounds like a recommendation to me,” he said. “Doesn’t it sound like one to you?” he asked, clapping his hands together. She laughed.

 

She made hot cocoa while Clint stayed by the window. A minute or so later, Rumlow knocked. “Hey,” Darcy said, after she’d opened the door. He was standing there with her blue plastic shovel, slightly dirty, in a women’s raincoat. “Do you like hot cocoa?” she asked him, pulling him into the apartment.

“What?” he said.

“Come sit,” she said, taking the coat back. “Or wash your hands and then sit.” Rumlow followed her into the kitchen.

“What are we doing?” he said, washing his hands and arms in the sink. Darcy got a good look at his forearm tattoos as she stirred.

“This is what we’re up to. Hot chocolate and booze. Those are neat,” she said, gesturing to the one on the back of his forearm.

“Thanks,” he said. “Got it in Thailand. Have one on the other side, too. And a few more.”

“I wish I wasn’t so nervous around needles---” she began, before Clint called out.

“I got dibs on them fancy marshmallows!” Clint said.

“Have you been looking in all my cabinets?” Darcy said. “Did you eat my hidden Andes mints?”

“Yup. Plus, you’re going to bribe me _not_ to tell Rumlow what you keep in your nightstand!” Clint said, laughing.

“Shit,” Rumlow muttered.

“No, I’m not,” Darcy said, scoffing, and leaning out of the kitchen to give Clint a look. “Those vibrators are a test--if they freak you out, we’re probably not friend-compatible or whatever. Definitely not sex compatible.” She turned and looked at Rumlow.  He was staring at her, his hands in the still-running water of her sink, expression all blank. Natasha could do that, too, Darcy thought. She wondered if they taught it to the agents? No expression face?

“Uh, listen--,” he said.

“Don’t stress, I’m not embarrassed,” she said, smiling and patting his lower back. “It really helps me weed out the guys who are super uptight about intimacy, anyway, you know? My last boyfriend couldn’t even say vibrator to me. When we were alone. I think British people just have more shame than I do? Did you want peppermint schnapps? Or sprinkles?”

“I want both!” Clint yelled.

 

***

“So,” Clint said, once Rumlow had left, “do you like him? Even if he snubbed your schnapps?”

“He has to work, that’s acceptable schnapps snubbing,” Darcy said. “I don’t know. He seems nice? The tattoos are cool,” she said.

“Ah ha! You like him!” Clint said.

“I am conflicted about the amount of duckface on his secret Insta though? The muscles are great, but is this corny?” she asked Clint, showing him her phone. “Sexy or cheesy?”

“Oh, man,” Clint said. “How’d you find this?” He snatched her phone.

“He gave it to me, duh,” she said.

“I gotta screenshot this,” Clint said. “Blackmail!” He laughed for five minutes.

“It’s bad, right?” Darcy said. Clint was too busy laughing to answer, so Darcy grabbed her phone back. “This is why I have to discuss this with Jane, she understands the importance of textual analysis!” 

 

 

 

Before she went to sleep, Darcy peered out of the window. The light was on in Janet Thornhill's bedroom. She sighed. Clint was snoring wheezily. Where was Janet, anyway?

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the idea of Darcy making sad Clint hot cocoa appealed to me, but *of course* Hawkeye has to troll her date and be obnoxious.


	6. Forensics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy has an idea....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos, they give me liiiiiiife!

Clint was a little down, Darcy thought, the next morning. She got him Fruit Loops and brought him a bowl at the window before work. “Thanks,” he said. “This is a bummer. I liked having a mystery, you know?”

“I’ve always wanted to solve a crime and be interviewed by Janice at KJCL,” Darcy admitted.

“Oh yeah, Janice, she’s the best one on the morning show. I don’t like that new guy,” Clint said.

“He looks weaselly,” Darcy said.

“Totally,” Clint agreed. “Laura said the same thing.”

“When did she see him?” Darcy asked, curious. She stole a Fruit Loop out of Clint’s bowl. He grimaced.

“Fingers, really? Sometimes, we watch the same shows, so it feels like we’re together when we’re not,” he said. “She watches the live feed on her laptop in Iowa.”

“Awwww, that’s so cute!” Darcy said. “Hashtag couple goals, Hawkeye!” Clint groaned.

“Don’t tell anybody,” he muttered. “Even if people knew I was married, I’m not sure I wanna be one of those obnoxious Facebook couples.”

“Please everyone either says they don’t want to be that couple or they are that couple,” Darcy said.

“Say what?” Clint said, frowning as he tried to follow her logic.

“Ergo, everyone wants to be that goofy, lovey dovey couple,” Darcy said. She left the apartment, still thinking about lovey dovey couples, and goofy PDAs on social media. People could look one way on social media and be totally different in real life. She was down the hall when a thought occurred to her, and she ran back for her plastic shovel.

“You’re back?” Clint said, perplexed.

“We need to dig those bottles back up, I’ve had an idea,” Darcy said. “You watch the window. I’m going downstairs.” She grabbed her shovel then went to the bathroom.

“Now?” Clint said. “What are you doing?”

“Yes, now, I don’t know how long evidence lasts, okay? I can’t believe I didn’t think about it before! Watch out the window!” Darcy said. “I’m getting my hair color gloves and a Ziploc and a paper bag, just like the cops.”

“Think about what?” Clint said.

“Poison!”

 

She practically sprinted downstairs.

 

***

 

Darcy carried her Trader Joe’s shopping back to the wing of SHIELD where the STRIKE teams had offices. She stopped a guy in tactical gear. “Excuse me, do you know where Commander Rumlow’s office is?” she asked. She’d already checked with Steve, but he was out and besides, she thought he might be a little more picky about unauthorized use of SHIELD resources. The guy in tactical gear looked at her--pausing momentarily at her hair color gloves--and looked at her wryly.

“He’s in 351 B, down the hall,” he said, jerking his thumb in that direction.

“Thank you,” Darcy said. She headed for his office, bottles clinking in her bag. The door to his office was slightly ajar. She could hear him speaking to someone; it sounded like a phone call. She tapped lightly.

“Come in,” he called. She pushed the door open and realized he was sitting on the edge of his desk in gym clothes, talking on an office phone. She swallowed slightly. Lots of visible shoulders and upper arm muscles. He did have several more tattoos. When he saw her, his eyebrows went up. “Listen, Kevin, I’m going to need to call you back, all right?” he said. He hung up. “Hey, what’s going on?” he asked Darcy.

“I need a favor. You know people in toxicology and forensics, right?” she asked him. “Could they test the bottles for me?” She wiggled her bag.

“Test the bottles?” Rumlow said.

“Well, I was talking to Clint about lovey dovey Facebook couples”--he frowned--”and I started thinking about how people seem one way and then have whole secret lives, you know? That couple you think is so in love and they hate each other? Or that woman who pretended her daughter was sick and everyone thought the mother was so devoted, only it turned out to be fake and she was poisoning her daughter? That got me thinking, maybe it’s not the bottles, it’s what was in the bottles. Inside them!” She looked at him, expecting a response to her epiphany. He was looking at her with a skeptical expression.

“So, you wore gloves?” he said. “That you had at home?”

“I use them when I color my hair,” she explained.

“Uh-huh,” he said, grinning. “Okay, I’m going to see if my friend Christina can help us out. Let’s walk these over?”

 

They walked to the Forensics lab and then Rumlow talked the lab manager into doing samples with her bottles. “Thanks, Chris, I really appreciate it,” he said, looking over his shoulder at the woman in the lab as he emerged. Darcy hadn’t had the clearance to get in.

“I saw that,” she teased.

“Hmm?” he said.

“You totally flirted with her!” Darcy said.

“No, I didn’t, she’s a friend,” he said, sounding oddly defensive.

“Clint says the same thing about the lady who orders his arrow parts, but I know the truth,” Darcy said. “Thank you for helping me, though.”

“It’s not a problem,” he said, shrugging. “I’m curious, too.” They were walking and talking--mostly her asking nosy questions about his tattoos--when Darcy spotted a wall clock

“Oh, crap, I’m late,” Darcy said, mid-digression about the om tattoo on the inside of his bicep.

“I’ll let you go,” he said gently. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s not a big deal, I’ll just bring her coffee,” Darcy said. “Jane will forgive any amount of lateness for coffee.”

“Do you mind if I tag along?” he asked.

 

***

 

“You’re late,” Jane said, when she walked in with coffees.

“I had an errand,” Darcy said, juggling the cups and the door. “What do you think of duckface?” Darcy asked Jane.

“I thought I made you stop that?” Jane said, looking back from her whiteboard.

“Not me, Rumlow does it,” she said. “Look, what do you think?” Darcy held up her phone for the other woman to see his gym photos from this morning.

“Oh my God, the abs,” Jane said, mouth opening in shock. “Ahhhh! Is that a twelve pack?”

“Janey, focus on the face, look at the face,” Darcy said.

“Nooooooo,” Jane said. “I just want to look at the pretty, glowy abs. Wait, why are you asking? I thought it was a begrudging date?”

“Wellllllll, I just sort of talked him into committing misuse of SHIELD resources with me and also, he dug a hole for me last night, so I feel like things are escalating?” Darcy said. “I don’t want to lead him on and I also owe him two favors, because he took our murder evidence to forensics and bought your coffee today. But I don’t know what to think.”

“This is a twelve-pack latte?” Jane said, delighted. “Murder evidence? What murder evidence?” She frowned.

“Yes, Janey,” Darcy said. “Clint saw Charlie Bruno burying a box. Rumlow helped us dig it up the first time. It had empty liquor bottles in it. So, we reburied it. But then this morning, I had this lightbulb moment that it could be poison, you know?”

“Poison,” Jane said thoughtfully.

“So, I dug them up again and asked Rumlow to take them to Forensics to swab or whatever they do. Trace DNA? I dunno. Do you know?” Darcy asked.

“No,” Jane said. “Could we google?” They had googled all kinds of things, when Jane looked at Darcy. “Someone could think we’re murderers, Darce,” she said, grinning.

“No joke,” Darcy said. “Our search histories are super incriminating: _poison, poisoning in liquor, how to hide poison…”_

“This is depressing. I’m going back to creeping on your new boyfriend’s abs,” Jane said, swiping Darcy’s phone.

“He’s not my boyfriend. Cut that out,” Darcy said. “We’re not like that.”

“Really?” Jane said. “You’re not interested?”

“I was kinda enjoying my alone time, you know? Being single and stuff. I’m sure I’m ready for smelly man clothes to migrate into my laundry again….” Darcy mused. She and Ian had been together constantly. She’d never had any space or privacy. He’d left science notes everywhere. It was like living with Jane, only somehow Jane’s oddities were endearing, while Ian’s had gotten on her nerves. She didn’t want to rush into anything again. It had been the Dark Elves and the near-death experience that made them jump into a relationship, she realized.

“Are you crazy? Look at the abs!” Jane said.

“Shut up.”

“His tattoos are great,” Jane said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I do like those. Also, he has a really nice om tattoo, which is oddly peaceful for someone who looks like they spend half their day practice-hitting things. Or shooting things.”

“Where is the om tattoo?” Jane said teasingly. “What kind of errand was this?”

“Not that kind of errand, he was just wearing a tank top,” Darcy said. “It’s on the inside of his bicep. He said he couldn’t get those when he was undercover with HYDRA. Not big on the om, apparently.”

“Awww, that’s kind of sweet, isn’t it? He’s getting to be himself now,” Jane said. She flicked through his photos. “This is a picture from your date?” she said, suddenly.

“Huh?” Darcy said. “Oh, yeah, Sharon took that. He must have liked it or something?”

“Darce, you wore that dress on a date? You never wear that dress!” Jane said.

“Oh, I wore that for Natasha,” she said.

“You look great. No wonder he’s buying me coffee,” Jane said, putting the phone down to return to the whiteboard.

“Pfffht,” Darcy said. “But also, thank you.”

 

While she was getting an afternoon snack for Jane, Darcy texted Clint to tell him the bottles were at Forensics.

 **Iowa Farm Boy:** How’d you wrangle that?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Rumlow has a friend in Forensics?

 **Iowa Farm Boy:** That babe Christina? I heard they were dating at one point.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Oh. I thought there was something there!

 **Iowa Farm Boy:** Don’t let her take your man, Itty Bitty.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Please. Also, nobody steals a man. You can’t steal someone who doesn’t _want_ to be stolen.

 **Iowa Farm Boy:** Ohhh, who said that? Dr. Phil?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** a Meg Ryan movie.

 **Iowa Farm Boy:** I haven’t seen one of those in years. I did watch Dr. Phil today. You hear about these Smiley Face Killings?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** No, tell me.

 **Iowa Farm Boy:** So, all these healthy guys in their twenties supposedly drowned...

 

“Oh my God, Jane, Clint was telling me about this serial killer gang. He saw it on Dr. Phil,” Darcy said, when she walked into the lab.

“What?” Jane said, looking up from one of her pieces of equipment.

“The Smiley Face gang!” Darcy said. “They look like accidental drownings, but then it turns out the victims have GHB in their systems and there are smiley faces painted nearby? The cops don’t listen, but it seems highly suspicious to me….”

“Okay, maybe Sharon is right, you need to get out more,” Jane said. Darcy stuck her tongue out.

 

***

 

“Do you really think I need to get out more? Or that we’re bad influences on each other?” Darcy asked that night, back at the apartment. She was making coffee for both of them.

“Who told you that?” Clint asked, looking over his shoulder from the window. He’d been stationed there with his binoculars. There had been no movement of any significance from Charlie Bruno’s apartment. Even his audio was boring. For a murderer, he watched a lot of ESPN and fell asleep a lot. At present, he was snoring.

“Jane the brain,” Darcy said, stirring the sugar into her coffee.

“You know what that means,” he said, nodding.

“What?” Darcy asked.

“She is so jealous,” Clint said. Darcy laughed for five minutes.

“Thank you for validating my terrible life choices,” Darcy joked, once she’d been able to stop giggling. “For that, I think we should take this investigation to the next level.”

“How?” Clint said. “We got a bug, we got forensics, what else do we do?”

“I’m going to see if we can rent a scent dog,” Darcy said. She had called Tony and he’d said he’d make arrangements for her, once he stopped laughing. He was also running a deep background on Charlie Bruno with his AI.

“I’m in,” Clint said.

 

***

 

Darcy got the call that the dog was waiting downstairs with a chaperone a day or two later. Tony had had him delivered to her from a training center in Virginia. She was excited. “The dog is here! The dog is here!” she said, clapping. “I’m going downstairs to get him,” she told Jane.

“He better not chew my equipment,” Jane said.

“Please, you love big slobbering puppies, I’ve seen Thor,” Darcy said. “Where is Thor?”

“Playing in the gym with STRIKE Alpha or something?” Jane said.

“Oh,” Darcy said.

“Would you like to go get him?” Jane asked.

“Nah, I’m sure he can meet Billy later,” Darcy said.

“Billy?” Jane said.

“The dog’s name is Billy. We’re going to see if he responds to Buddy, Clint wants that to be his code name at home,” Darcy said. “Like a canine alias?”

 

***

 

When she went down to the lobby, there was a man standing there with a calm-looking German Shepherd. “Billy?” she said. “Billy and Michael Thompson?” The dog looked alert at her happy tone and wagged his tail. Darcy petted him.

“Darcy Lewis?” Michael the canine chaperone said, grinning at her focus on the dog, not him.

“Yup,” she said, handing him her ID and a cash tip. Tony had insisted on paying for everything, just because he thought it was funny. “You’ll pick him up when I call?”

“Sure thing. He’s a good dog,” he said, grinning and handing her the leash. “He has a manual, too. So, you can tell all his training commands and signals.”

“Awesome, thank you,” Darcy said, so excited that she hugged him, too.

 

She and Billy--who seemed okay with Buddy--were waiting on the elevator when the doors opened on Nick Fury. “Miss Lewis,” he said in greeting. “Unauthorized dog.”

“Hi. This is Billy and he is a highly-trained dog,” Darcy explained.

“Does that mean he won’t pee or chew on my brand new building?” Fury said.

“Yes, sir,” Darcy said. “Also, he’s going to be keeping Clint company after today.” Fury nodded.

“Lewis, I’m going to pretend I never saw that dog--and also that I don’t know that someone is running unusual samples through my Forensics department with the assistance of my normally by-the-book STRIKE Commander.”

“I would appreciate that,” Darcy said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The om tattoo is one of Frank Grillo's less visible ones. Def not HYDRA-approved symbolism, I'd imagine: https://www.instagram.com/p/BJcrg6yDpCz/


	7. No Plot, No Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Clint try to decide what to do......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your kudos and comments!

Clint loved Billy-Buddy. In his first hours in the apartment, the two of them played fetch and knocked over a lamp, several books, and a pile of notebooks. “Okay, you guys, cut it out,” Darcy said.

“We should go downstairs and play fetch in the courtyard,” Clint said, a gleam in his eye. 

“Okey dokey,” Darcy said. They both bundled up and went downstairs. Darcy took her phone, so she could listen to podcasts. True crime. “Have you listened to  _ Someone Knows Something?”  _ she asked Clint.

“No, should I?” he asked.

“Totes,” Darcy said. She watched as Clint threw a ball for Buddy. The dog loved it. But then he suddenly stopped and started tracking something, nose glued to the ground. Clint sat up, alert. “He’s tracking,” Darcy whispered.

“Hell yes, he is,” Clint said. “Let’s go.” 

 

They put the dog’s leash back on and let him lead them out of the courtyard. He tracked towards the parking lot and then stopped at one car. “I’ll get the license plate,” Darcy hissed. She snapped photos on her phone. “Oh my God, oh my God,” she was muttering.

“What?” Clint said.

“One of the things he tracks is blood! It’s in his manual,” Darcy said. 

“Aw, shit,” Clint said. “I thought we were just going to play fetch. What do we do?” 

“Let’s go back inside, lock the doors,” Darcy said. “It’s daylight, what if someone saw us?”

 

Darcy immediately called Jane to report the developments. “Can you believe that?” she said. “He tracked directly to this Ford sedan. I don’t know what to do now. What do we do now?” Jane snorted.

“What if it was just hot dogs or something?” Jane said. 

“He’s not trained for that. His guidebook says blood and sweat and drugs and explosives….”

“Tears?” Jane said wryly. In the background, Darcy heard Thor chuckle.

“Why are you making fun of us?” Darcy said. “This is serious. Clint, what is the murderer doing?”

“He’s watching a basketball game,” Clint said. “Murdering bastard.”

“That’s right!” Darcy said. “He’s just put her body in that Ford and now he’s watching the Saints or something.”

“You really don’t watch sports, do you?” Clint said. 

“What?” Darcy said. Clint shook his head at Buddy.

“I think you got your sportsball teams mixed up?” Jane said.

“Oh. Sorry,” Darcy said.

“I’m going to go fool around with Thor,” Jane announced. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Jane, Jane!” Darcy said. She looked at the phone. “She hung up on us. What do we do now?” She looked up at Clint and Buddy from her couch.

“Call your boyfriend, see if he can run the plates?” he suggested.

“One, not my boyfriend, two, you were on a STRIKE team, why can’t you run plates?” she asked.

“Fury took my access privileges away after I hacked Cap and Tasha’s quinjet so it would play Bob Marley and the Wailers,” Clint said. He sighed and shook his head at Buddy. “The man has no poetry in his soul.”

“He did let me sneak Buddy around today and he’s turning his blind eye to our Forensics,” Darcy pointed out. Clint made some indeterminate grumbling sounds. “You’re not going to admit that he’s sometimes okay?” Darcy demanded. “He did hide your whole family?”

“He’s sometimes okay,” Clint muttered begrudgingly. “Can I call Laura from your room?” he asked. 

“Sure,” Darcy said.

“Are you going to call him?” Clint asked, once he’d hobbled a few feet on crutches.

“Who?” she said. “Fury?”

“Don’t kid. Rumlow,” Clint said.

“I dunno,” Darcy said, looking at her cell phone. Brock had given her his personal number. Should she call him? Darcy was afraid that it might signal more interest than she felt, if she kept contacting him for help. Then again, it wasn’t like he’d made a move, beyond giving her some contact information, and buying Jane and her coffee, and tolerating her and Clint’s true crime phase. 

“Do what feels right,” Clint said seriously. He disappeared into her room, followed by Buddy, whose collar jangled. A minute or two later, she heard Clint use the soft voice he only used for Laura and the kids. It was actually sweet, hearing Clint go all soft. He was asking about their grades and Lila’s artwork. Darcy got up and made a cup of coffee, setting her phone on the kitchen counter.

“What do I do?” she said out loud, wandering over to the window as the coffee brewed. She went back to her phone.

 

“Hello?” he said, picking up on the second ring.

“Brock?” she said. “It’s Darcy.”

“Oh, hey. Something wrong?” he asked.

“Ummmm, oh God, I don’t know,” she said. “This is going to sound crazy, okay?”

“Oh, no,” he said. “Not you.” He chuckled.

“Don’t tease me, this is super awkward,” Darcy said.

“Uh huh,” he said, sounding wry.

“What?” she said.

“I just need to clarify that I don’t send nudes until after the second date,” Brock said. Darcy laughed.

“I wasn’t going to ask for that!” she said.

“Sure,” he said.

“I really wasn’t,” Darcy insisted.

“Well, now I’m disappointed,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“I, um, rented a dog trained to track scents,” Darcy explained.

“You rented a dog?” Brock said. He sounded incredulous.

“Yup, I rented a dog and the dog tracked his way to a car in our parking lot, so I need someone to run the plates?” 

“Okay,” he said in a quiet voice. “Give ‘em to me?” She rattled off the plate numbers. 

“Now aren’t you glad you went on that double date?” she asked. There was a pause on the line.

“I am glad, actually. I’d like a second date, but that means I need to confess something,” he told her.

“What is it?” Darcy asked.

“Forensics came back today. No poison,” he said.

“Oh,” Darcy said. She felt vaguely letdown.

“Also, I spoke to Janet Thornhill. She’s very much alive, Darcy. I made sure to Skype with her, just to verify,” he said. “I’ve got screenshots for you, too.”

“Why didn’t you send them?” she asked.

“I wanted to go on a second date!” he said, laughing. “You’re really funny and charming, kiddo.”

“You think I’m funny?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Hilarious. Also, if you didn’t want me to be totally infatuated, you should have worn a different dress,” he teased. 

“Okay. For our second date, I’ll wear something from my awful, unsexy sweater collection,” Darcy told him. “So, she’s alive? You’re sure?”

“Completely certain,” he said. “She’ll be back Wednesday. She took a few days after the conference to see some family who live upstate.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Then don’t bother with the plates. Jane’s probably right. He’s probably smelling hot dogs or something.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, nobody’s dead,” Rumlow said.

“I’m going to have to tell Clint. He’ll be so sad we don’t need to keep the dog,” she told Rumlow. The STRIKE Commander laughed.

“So, don’t tell him tonight. Stay on the phone with me?” he asked. 

“Why don’t you come over?” she asked.

“I’m in an undisclosed location,” he said dryly.

“Oh,” Darcy said.

“You can sound sad now, it’s very flattering to my ego,” he said.

“You’ll allow it?” she joked.

“Absolutely,” he said.

***

 

Clint was really disappointed when she broke the news to him the next morning. She’d decided to give him the night. He’d been so happy after talking to Laura, she couldn’t burst his bubble. He pouted for a full ten minutes, then asked her if Rumlow was certain at least three times. “Yup,” Darcy said. “Brock’s certain.”

“Photostatic veils?” Clint offered.

“I don’t think so,” Darcy said.

“You’re just saying that because Rumlow said it and you’re automatically believing a hot person,” Clint said.

“What?” Darcy said.

“I saw it on the CNN crawler. People believe good-looking people more,” Clint said, petting Buddy. “Aw, shit, we gotta give Buddy back?” He stuck his lip out.

“We can keep him for a few more days, I okayed it with Tony,” Darcy said. She’d actually explained to Tony that she needed to cushion the blow for Clint. Tony, bless him, had agreed.

  
  


Clint decided they could retrieve the bug before work. “How will you get it down?” Darcy asked, curious.

“Oh, let’s stop by and see Bob,” Clint said. “We can just get it from his unit.”

“Makes sense. Did you want to bring Buddy?” she asked.

“Nah, Bob’s allergic to dogs,” Clint said. “Can’t get near the SHIELD dogs.”

“Awwww,” Darcy said sadly.

 

She and Clint went over to Bob’s before work and knocked. He opened the door. “Hello?” he said. “Hey, Clint.”

“Hey, man, do you mind if we come in, I need to get the bug off your balcony?” Clint said.

“The bug off my balcony?” he said.

“Janet Thornhill is alive,” Darcy said. “It turns out we’re just paranoid.”

“Come on in,” Bob said, gesturing. Darcy rolled Clint into the living room. “So, you planted a bug on my balcony?” he asked.

“Just to spy on Bruno downstairs, but we’ll get it and be out of your hair,” Clint said, turning his chair to face Bob. “It’ll just take a minute.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” Bob said quietly. He was holding a gun.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a joke reference to Chris Baty's (founder of NaNoWriMo) book, "No Plot, No Problem!" 
> 
> It's great, he's a total positive spirit-slash-inspirational person.


	8. Nobody Pays Attention To Bob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

On a quinjet, Brock Rumlow was bored. Whenever he was bored lately, he thought about Darcy and wondered what she was up to. He hadn’t run her plates, he realized, pulling out his phone. He’d put the number on a notes app. He retrieved it and plugged the number into SHIELD’s system. To his surprise, a familiar face popped up on screen. “Bob?” he said out loud. “What the hell?”

“What is it, Rumlow?” Cap said from the back of the ‘jet.

“Darcy and Clint’s scent dog tracked to Bob’s Ford,” he said, looking at Rogers. 

“But Janet Thornhill’s alive?” Steve said.

“Yeah,” Brock said. Steve nodded and sat back down. Something was bugging Rumlow. Nagging at the corners of his consciousness. “Cap?” he said.

“Yeah?” Steve said.

“Sometimes those dogs are trained to scent for explosives,” Rumlow said slowly. “He works in the weapons development division and he acted funny when Darcy joked about spying on Bruno. What if he’s our Agent C4?” Agent C4 was the internal name for an agent who’d never been identified after the Uprising. C4 had supposedly been supplying explosives modified with Chitauri tech to Alexander Pierce. There had been a secret effort to track down the HYDRA mole and the rules had been tightened to keep property on-site. No one’s car was supposed to smell of C4. They weren’t even supposed to wear their street clothes inside the development labs, the explosive components were so small. And so dangerous.

“I’ll call Sharon,” Steve said. A worried Natasha Romanoff had come up to the front of the quinjet.

“What have you not told me?” she said. As Steve made the call to Sharon Carter, Natasha listened to Brock’s explanation, frown deepening.

“Maybe it will be nothing,” Brock said.

 

***

“Darcy, run!” Clint yelled, shoving himself bodily in his wheelchair directly at the man with the gun. Darcy really should have run, but then the gun went off and she saw Clint jolt when a bullet grazed his shoulder. And that made her furious. Instead, she screamed like a banshee and swung her messenger bag at Bob.

“You asshole!” she yelled. She was probably lucky it was a heavy bag and caught him off guard. His second shot missed Clint.

“Run, you idiot,” a bleeding Clint said, throwing his body weight on the other man, trying to pin him down despite his injuries. Bob hit Clint in the stomach, shoving him off, and then aimed for Darcy. The gunshots seemed impossibly loud. Clint pushed his arm down, yanking the gun away. “Don’t move, shithead,” he barked out, punching Bob in the face. “Darce? You okay?” he called out.

 

Darcy didn’t feel anything. She looked down at the red spot blooming on her shirt. How funny, she thought, before it registered that she had been shot. “I don’t think so,” she said. 

 

*** 

Sharon Carter left for the apartment building as soon as Steve called her. En route, she heard Clint’s voice over the radio. He was panicking. It was bad. 

 

She parked in a loading zone and ran up the steps. Inside the apartment, she found Bob tied to a chair--it appeared Clint had punched him into compliance--and Clint kneeling over an injured and bleeding Darcy. “Just hang in there, okay?” he was saying.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said in a low voice.

“I’ll call and find out the ambulance’s ETA,” Sharon said. It looked like Clint had tried to staunch some of the external bleeding. She stepped out into the hall. When she came back, Clint looked up at her with frightened eyes.

“How long?” he asked. “She’s been shot once in the upper chest and the other bullet went through her shoulder.”

“Three minutes,” Sharon said. “We think he’s Agent C4.”

“Motherfucker,” Clint muttered. “HYDRA motherfucker.”

“Somebody--” Darcy said.

“Shh, don’t worry,” Clint said. “It’s okay.”

“No, somebody needs to remember the dog,” she said. “He eats at eight. It’s in his manual. Remember the dog,” she repeated.

“We will,” Sharon said. “Don’t worry, Darce.”

 

It seemed like a very long time before the ambulance got there.

  
  


***

 

Darcy woke up in a hospital bed. There were machines beeping and dim fluorescent lighting. She blinked. Where were her glasses?  “Jane?” she said. There was a blurry, vaguely humanoid shape on the chair next to her. It stirred.

“Darce,” Jane’s voice said, sounding relieved.

“Where are my glasses?” Darcy said.

“Here,” Jane said and Darcy fumbled them on. Jane had sat up from under a blanket; the clock said nine pm.

“Is Clint okay?” Darcy asked. “And the dog?”

“They’re both fine.  _ You  _ got shot, which I’m not ready to forgive Clint about yet, leading you directly into a HYDRA goon’s apartment….”

“Bob was HYDRA? Nondescript Bob?” Darcy said, shocked.

“Yes,” Jane said, with some asperity. She was wildly pissed at Clint, regardless of the dangerous shenanigans she’d sometimes gotten Darcy into. It was different when she did it, her brain insisted. “You’re going to be fine, by the way. You’re out of surgery,” Jane told her. 

“I am?” Darcy said. “Good. How is the dog?”

“The dog is fine, too,” Jane said. “One bullet grazed your collarbone and the other basically got your left breast on the side,” she explained. “Lots of bleeding, but not major organ damage. Only soft tissue.”

“Excuse me, left boob is offended you don’t think it’s a major organ,” Darcy said. She could relax if Clint and Billy the dog were okay. “Do I get happy drugs? Should I get a plastic surgeon to look at my boob?” she mused.

“Oh my God, you could have died!” Jane said sternly.

“You very touchy for a not shot person,” Darcy grumbled. “Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me?”

“Do you feel like food?” Jane asked. “Rumlow brought you ice cream before he had to go to his debrief.”

“Awww. Ice cream, really?” she said. It turned out to be gelato. there was a note alongside the small containers he’d smuggled into the hospital in a cooler while she slept:  _ Much better than hospital Jell-O. See you soon. Second date? -Brock.  _ "Brock," she said, giggling. "I still can't believe his name is Brock, Jane."

"Your happy drugs are kicking in, aren't they?" Jane said.

"I hope so," Darcy said. "Poor left boob. I hope she's not scarred for life."

"What am I going to do with you?" Jane said, sounding very mom-ish.

"Find me some Oreos to dip in this vanilla gelato? Ask Steve, he's got a thing about knowing where all the vending machines are in hospitals," Darcy said. "I don't know why he does that."

 

  
-The End-

 


End file.
